


Snapshots

by Krystalmatsumiya



Series: My Life With You [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Kid Mycroft, M/M, baby sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalmatsumiya/pseuds/Krystalmatsumiya
Summary: Short Snapshots of Mycroft and Sherlock growing up until the events of my The List story.





	1. Meeting

Seven-year-old, Mycroft Holmes had been distinctly unmoved when his parents had announced that there was to be a new addition to the family. He had suffered silently through the declarations that a new baby wouldn’t mean that they would love him any less and then again through the utterances that the baby would be a play mate for him. A companion. It was a foolish notion. The difference in their ages alone meant that by the time the baby was ready for any kind of human conversation he would be much too old to want to suffer with a child. 

The baby was born at exactly 6:30 am on a very wet, cold, and windy 2nd of December. Rain was lashing against Mycroft’s window keeping him awake and driving out the sound of the new born baby screaming. He would have found it strange that his mother had refused to go to hospital to have the baby had he not known that all Holmes were born on the estate. A medical team had arrived from London however and the bedroom was well equipped with everything that she might have needed. 

“You have a brother, Mycroft, a beautiful baby brother!” His father William announced proudly coming into the room with a flourish. His face was pink with a distinct handprint suggesting that his mother had hit him at some point in the proceedings. William looked happy however and Mycroft soon found his warm bedding ripped from his body “Come and meet him! He’s so beautiful” 

Mycroft highly doubted the truth of his father’s words. The baby was only a few minutes old. His head would still likely be a little miss-shaped and his skin blue and covered in junk that the young boy didn’t want to think about but he offered a smile to the enthusiastic, happy man and then followed him out of his bedroom glad that he could stop and put on his shoes and a robe. The old house creaked little as he walked down the long corridor until at last they reached the bedroom his mother had used. It was the same room he had been born in as well as his father, grandmother, and uncle Rudi. 

Inside the efficient doctors and nurses were finishing up and Mycroft noticed that the four-poster queen Anne bed had been covered with course white sheeting and the curtains had been removed. White plastic had been placed on the antique carpets and medical equipment stood out eerily in the old-fashioned room. His mother was blooming, her face was pale but there was a happy warm glow in her cheeks as she cradled the new life in her arms against her bosom. A pale cream blanket was draped loosely over the baby but Mycroft could already see the top of the baby’s head a saw that already it had wet curls. They were still so wet that they couldn’t see a colour but he was almost instantly bewitched by the sight of them. 

“Mikey” His mother smiled reaching out with a spare hand “Come and meet your baby brother William” 

Reluctantly Mycroft climbed onto the bed beside her. The cover was moved aside and he was given the pleasure of seeing his brother for the first time. The face was blotchy as he had predicted but there was something like a sting in his eyes when he saw that baby William’s eyes were open and that he was gazing directly up at him. It was illogical, Mycroft knew that, there was no way that he would be able to see him but he was sure that the baby was looking at him and for what was probably the first time in his seven years on earth Mycroft gave a genuine smile and whispered;

“Welcome to the world, Sherlock Holmes”


	2. Sherlock's first smile

Sherlock was a fussy baby demanding attention and adoration from all who he encountered but Mycroft was very proud to say that it was only he who could command Sherlock’s attention. From the very moment of his birth Sherlock would only fall truly silent when Mycroft was in the room with him and for his part Mycroft could only relax when he was near his baby brother. He would sit beside the large wooden cot for hours each day reading to him from the tomes that he found in the Holmes library. Sherlock would stare at him with his blue/green eyes and chew on his fingers with his gummy mouth. His hair was as spun cooper around his face in little profusions of whispery curls. His eyes held intelligence, Mycroft was certain of it and he would be damned before he let his well-meaning but simpleton parents ruin it. 

He was the first to witness Sherlock smiling. His father thought that he was but Mycroft had beaten him by an entire ten minutes. Sherlock had been fussing in his cot and Mycroft had been half-asleep in the wooden rocking chair when he had heard him. Sherlock had colic the midwife had told them one foggy Sunday a week after Sherlock’s birth meaning that he was prone to crying around the same time each night. 

The well-intentioned woman had given Sherlock gripe water to soothe it away and she had completely ignored Mycroft and even physically shooed him away when he had said that it was just a fancy placebo and that there was no real evidence that it worked. He believed that the action of drinking and the soothing motions of the hand on Sherlock’s back did him the most good but his mother had ignored him. 

He was only thankful that the water would do little to harm baby Sherlock even if it wasn’t doing him any real good. As it was Mycroft stayed in the room while Sherlock was at his worst not trusting his parents to wake to the cries and not wanting his brother to suffer longer than he had to. That night the wind was almost as bad as it had been on the day of Sherlock’s birth and the shutters were slamming against the foundations of the house. Thankfully the windows had been completely modernised while being kept in keeping with the original house meaning that the nursery was sufficiently warm.

The wind didn’t pull him out of his slumber however but the sound of Sherlock’s cries. Plaintive at first before building into a healthy sounding scream which echoed around the room. Mycroft pushed the sleep from his eyes and went to the crib. As soon as his face appeared over the top of the mosses basket Sherlock stopped his cries. 

“Hello, Sherlock” He whispered with a smile on his own face as the soft, barely-there, eyebrows wiggled around curiously and his lips pursed into a pout. It was as though he wanted to respond to him but couldn’t yet do so. “Mother or father will be here soon I expect; would you like to hear the search for the snark? It is a load of old nonsense really but Uncle Rudi says that I am to learn it so you might as well listen to it” He hummed moving away from the cot for just long enough to pick up the first edition Lewis Carrol book his parents had given him. Sherlock blinked slowly and then tried to stuff his fist into his mouth while Mycroft cleared his throat and began reading “"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried as he landed his crew with care; Supporting each man on the top of the tide. By a finger entwined in his hair” Sherlock let out a soft dove like cooing and Mycroft was shocked when he looked over the top of his book and saw that his brother was smiling at him. “Trust you to like nonsense, Sherlock” He muttered with a roll of his eyes pleased that Sherlock’s first smile had been all for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Mycroft reads is the search for the snark by Lewis Carroll
> 
> I hope that this is okay :)


	3. Chapter 3

“’Oft!” Sherlock cried loudly as was his want when he wanted his attention and Mycroft shot his brother a curiously lifted eyebrow from behind the book he was reading. The boy had been attempting to speak his first word for about a week now but so far, he hadn’t yet gained the skill to form his name. Five-month-old Sherlock was sitting in his baby chair, drooling happily as he sucked on the head of a giraffe named Geffrey, his toes pressing against the carpet of the nursery/stroke Mycroft’s study. His parents had finally given in to his requests of having his books and desk placed in with his brother where he might be able to keep an eye on him. They agreed that he was a decent babysitter and less prone to make Sherlock scream with frustration unlike the old baggie who was paid to look after him. 

Mrs Ambridge was a decent enough woman, he supposed. As thin as a rake, with a sad expression that cased her sunken cheeks to appear even more hallow. Her hair was the same tawny brown colour of the average house mouse and she was greying at the temples. She had grey eyes hidden by thick rimmed glasses that were decorated in a turtle shell pattern. Her attitude to Sherlock was commendable and the food she prepared adequate Mycroft supposed but he knew that she thought of him as some kind of antichrist. He had overheard her on the telephone telling her husband that he reminded her of Damion. 

A simple search had told him all that he needed to know and he was a little offended by the comparison. He had tried his best to be charming when she arrived, had sat with his mother politely during the interview and had made that he only asked sensible questions. The care that Sherlock was of the upmost importance to him after all and he wanted to make sure that whoever his parents hired knew that. “Oft!” Sherlock said again, louder this time and Mycroft set his book down and turned in his chair to look at his brother properly and delighted Sherlock held up Geffrey and waved it around happily repeating “Oft!” 

“MY-CRO-FT…Sherlock” He said fearing that his parents’ soft brains had already polluted his brother. Of course, he had already decided that he wouldn’t mind if Sherlock wasn’t as smart as he was but he didn’t want him to be a dunce either. “Say My…” 

“Oft!” Sherlock said stubbornly the giraffe swinging around dangerously fast now and Mycroft was worried that Sherlock was going to hit himself in the eye with the soft leg.

“Very well, for now I will suffer and accept Oft. But you should hurry and learn to say my name properly, brother” He smiled getting down from his chair and walking over to his beaming brother. Sherlock bounced up and down in the chair as Mycroft knelt before him picking up a rattle and waving it around in front of his face before playing a rather foolish game of hide and seek. Sherlock near screamed with delight each time he appeared from behind the fingers. “Where’s Sherlock? There he is!” He was saying as the door opened and Mrs Ambridge came in with both a bottle and a bowl of baby food. 

“Your dinner is downstairs in the kitchen Mycroft” She told him with a tight smile as Mycroft got to his feet again slowly Sherlock letting out disappointed noises at his loss. 

“I shall be back soon, Sherlock” He promised his brother, unable to resist smiling at him although he didn’t like to while Mrs Ambridge was in the room and sure enough the woman drew herself to full height saying;

“William will be having his afternoon nap” 

“And I shall be studying” Mycroft pointed absently to his desk before walking to the door “I shan’t disturb him” 

“Oft! Oft!” Sherlock cried dismayed that he was leaving and Mycroft gave him another little smile ruffling the curls with his fingers.   
“I’ll be back soon, Sherlock” 

“My-Oft!” Sherlock whined loudly and Mycroft smiled at the almost complete word from his brother’s mouth “My-Oft! My-oft!”

“Almost, Sherlock, keep practicing”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the main story of the List will be up again tomorro...I hope that this was okay ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this was okay


End file.
